


En Delicto

by Kummerspeck7



Category: Royal Pains
Genre: First Time, M/M, Secret Relationship, Sick!Boris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 16:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11695200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kummerspeck7/pseuds/Kummerspeck7
Summary: Three times Boris and Hank were almost caught, one time they were, and one time they weren't.





	En Delicto

Evan was furious as he marched through the cavernous halls of Shadow Pond. Medical equipment was going missing without a trace at the hospital and all signs pointed to Boris, again. He didn't get special privileges just because he owned the hospital, that was Evan's new mantra. He repeated it over and over in his head, bolstering his anger and using it like armor. He wasn't a coward for being nervous around Boris. The man had intrigue and danger so enmeshed in his life he probably didn't sleep. If he did, his dreams probably played out like James Bond novels--and Evan wasn't sure if Boris was even the good guy in his own dreams. He did have a shark tank in the basement.

Finally he heard the low rumble of Boris’ voice coming from the library and stopped in the doorway, shaking his head to remove the remembrance of finding that tank. 

“Far be it for me to deny you.” Boris murmured, leaning back with a small grin.

Evan heard the unmistakable zip as he opened his mouth to speak and froze. He was afraid to leave and disturb them, he obviously couldn't continue into the room. Bizarrely calm he surveyed the library, the tall bookshelves, the thick carpet, the Chesterfield couches. The one Boris was sitting on--laying on, Evan's psyche corrected--was facing away from the door. Thank God for small favors, all he could see was Boris’ head on the arm of the couch and his feet hanging off the other side. Slowly something clicked in his head. There were three men's dress shoes hanging off the edge of the couch. Boris only had two legs.

Who knew Boris was biflexible, Evan thought absently. I wonder if Hank knows. Is that medically relevant?

“Mein Schatz.” Boris nearly pleaded between gritted teeth. “Die bouche. Ich möchte… Ich brauche ihn. Jetzt.”

A soft, strangely familiar chuckle was the only response. Boris was loud during sex, who knew. Evan looked at the ground, surveyed the hardwood. A billionaire wouldn't have squeaky boards, would he? He could back out of the room. No one would know he was even there. He wouldn't tell Hank, he decided as he looked at the feet one last time. He wouldn't tell anyone. It wasn't really his business who those feet belonged to. Evan was proud of his resolution, he could make adult decisions no matter what everyone else thought about him.

As he turned to leave he noticed a familiar brown leather bag. Was that Hank's doctor bag? Evan squinted--it was! Why Hank would leave it was beyond Evan, he loved that battered old thing. He couldn't have forgotten it, it stayed at his side at all times like a beloved family dog. Boris was breathing heavily, his fingers gripping the back of the couch. It was now or never. Evan took a few soft steps back, escaping the room.

\---

Divya looked down at her watch, irritated. It was past nine at night, she'd missed Sashi's bed time. Again. Of course her last patient at six in the evening was pushed back until seven because of the summer traffic, then the drive to drop his labs at Hamptons Heritage, and now she had to put his stupid file back in the locking cabinet thanks to Evan's equally stupid new rule.

She was fuming as she stepped out of her SUV and onto the driveway, the gravel strangely quiet under her heels. There were no lights on in the guest house, so she crept in quietly. Divya meant to move quickly, to pop in and out and be gone. She tiptoed to the room with the cabinet and quietly filed the papers away. She was on her way out when she saw it.

Boris and Hank were sitting at the table, drinking wine. The empty plates around them suggested they'd already had dinner, and there was a thick piece of cheesecake on a plate before them. The entire room was lit by candles, which struck Divya as odd. Boris did have a medical condition, though no one but Hank knew what it was. Perhaps the light was bothering his eyes.

“So what do you think?” Boris asked in his rumbling baritone, peering at Hank over the rim of his glass.

“Well, I'm not a financier by any stretch.” The doctor laughed.

“Clearly.” Boris quipped. “I've seen your car.”

Divya nearly gave her position away by almost laughing. Boris had a sense of humor? Apparently one he kept quiet, reserved for whatever this was. 

“Well, jokes about my Saab aside, I thought that guy was awfully pompous. I also thought it was bizarre that he kept talking about his money at a fundraiser surrounded by billionaires.”

Hank and Boris went to fundraisers together? Divya hadn't known that. But it made sense that they'd become friendly after all the time they'd spent together. Especially with all the long trips they took together. Boris certainly didn't seem to trust a lot of people, it was good that they'd become friends.

“Yes, he is quite crass.” A tiny smile ghosted across his lips. “You know those new money families.”

Hank shook his head and cut into the cheesecake with a fork. He slowly took a bite, enjoyed it on his tongue. “I don't know where you got your dessert chef, but this is the best cheesecake I've ever had.”

“He's been staffing my Marseilles estate while furthering his education. I hope I have no reason to be jealous.” Boris responded, setting his wine down.

Hank laughed a little, then cut a second piece of cheesecake with his fork and carefully lifted it to Boris’ mouth. “I'm a doctor, I have an ethical obligation to help anyone who needs me.”

The Noble accepted the proffered bite, looking serious. He lifted his hand to Hank's cheek, wiping away a crumb. “I hope it will never come down to a choice, Hank. I believe you have a history of letting older, wealthy benefactors die.”

Hank moved his face closer, so close their noses were nearly touching. “I would never let anything happen to you, Boris.”

Divya looked away, embarrassed. This was much too personal for her to be watching. It was probably even stepping on doctor patient confidentially. They were discussing his health and medical care. Quickly she snuck back the way she'd come and got in her car.

By the time she returned home, she'd decided not to mention it to anyone. She hadn't even witnessed anything, just two men having some dessert.

\---

“I saw something kinda weird today.” Paige said as she walked in the front door.

Evan perked up. “Like the diamond encrusted spittoon? Or the dead lady necklace? I still can't believe you can make jewelry out of dead people's ashes.”

“No, not at work. I stopped by Hank's to show him that clock he was interested in, and I think I saw something.” She nibbled on her lower lip.

“Saw something? Like what?” Evan pressed.

“Okay. So I went to the front door and let myself in like usual. Boris and Hank were sitting really close on the couch. Like really close Evan. Like… Maybe they were cuddling?”

Evan almost started laughing. “Why would they be cuddling? Maybe they were talking about something private. You know how Boris is about his privacy.”

Paige shook her head. “They both had their laptops open, I think they were working, and it almost looked like Boris had his arm around Hank's waist. Anyway, that's not all. When I said I had the thing Hank wanted, Boris left.”

“Honestly, I think you're overthinking this. Boris loves making mysterious exits.” Evan assured her.

“Before he left, they kissed. Like, on the mouth kissing. I think they might be-You know, together.” 

“No way. Even if they were in a secret relationship-which they're not, Henry falls in love with a different woman every ten minutes-Why would they let you in on their secret?” 

“Maybe they were hoping I'd tell you? You should talk to Hank.” 

Evan ran a hand through his hair. “What would I even say? ‘Paige saw you guys canoodling’? Henry is Boris’ doctor, that's a pretty serious accusation. I'm not sure I should bring it up.” 

“Evan, they were kissing.” She insisted.

“Paige, he's European. I'm sure that's how he says goodbye to everyone he likes. We just never see it because he likes so few people.” Evan replied smoothly, draping an arm over his wife's slender shoulders. “What are we doing for dinner tonight? I think we should try the new place by the beach.”

Paige frowned. “You know what? You're probably right, I don't want to make anything uncomfortable. The new place sounds good, let's do that.”

\---

“He's late.” Evan growled, irritated.

“It's his birthday! Don't make him come to the staff meeting and call it his present. It's what I would want for my birthday.” Divya suggested as she rolled her eyes.

“Punctuality is a HankMed tennant. If he wants to lay around in bed, we'll just have the meeting up there!” Evan replied while grabbing his laptop.

“Evan, no.” The woman across from him insisted. 

Ignoring her, Evan marched up the stairs while everyone else hurried to collect their papers and catch up. “Henry! You don't get to skip-”

He flung open the door and promptly froze. Boris was sitting the bed shirtless, reading glasses perched on his nose, just looking at the paper like he owned the place. He did own the place, but that was besides the point. What was he doing in Hank's bed? Where was Henry?

Evan's unspoken question was answered as Hank groggily lifted his head from where he was curled up at Boris’ side. The blankets slid down his tanned torso, bunching near his hips. Hank seemed to be shirtless, too.

“Evan?” He mumbled sleepily. Then he frowned. “And Divya, Paige, Doctor Sacani?”

“Umm, happy birthday, Hank!” Paige volunteered cheerfully. “We decided to bring the staff meeting to you.”

“I will take my leave, then.” Boris announced casually, folding his paper carefully and placing it on the side table.

He turned to the group as it slowly dawned on them-They had to leave the room, because he was not wearing anything under that blanket.

“Ah, um, yes. I mean, of course.” Evan finally managed. “We'll just- Yeah.”

“Let's go, Evan.” Divya hissed through her smile, dragging him out of the room as everyone else filed out. But while everyone went to their first appointments, Evan waited just outside Hank's door until it opened. He had some questions.

“Where did Boris-?” Evan asked as he looked confusedly around the room.

Hank shrugged. “Secret tunnel from my closet to the main house.”

“Are you joking? This isn't funny, Henry. Maybe you're not. It is Boris, after all.” His brother protested.

“Is there a real reason why you're skulking outside my bedroom?” Hank questioned as he picked up his bag and moved to leave.

“So… Is Boris like your boyfriend or something?” Evan finally asked.

“More like companion.” Hank supplied hesitantly. 

“Companion? What does that even mean?” His brother demanded.

“It’s fluid. It means that regardless of what our relationship is- romantic, platonic, whatever- I'll be with him long term.” 

Evan frowned. “What about his family disease thing? What are you going to do when he gets bad?”

“I'll be there. Right now we're involved romantically. Eventually he won't be able to continue that part of the relationship, and I'll be his caretaker. I'll make the call when he needs a Declaration of Incompetence, through his decline, until-” Hank paused. “Until his condition takes him. Whenever that may be.”

Evan stopped pacing and put a hand on his brother's shoulder. “Wow. So this is really serious. You guys have a long term plan and everything.”

“Yeah, it is. He's it for me, Evan. He's The One. I wasn't expecting it, you know? It just happened. He had this fever that wouldn't go away and I fell asleep while keeping an eye on him overnight. I woke up the next morning, and he looked awful-you wouldn't even believe how bad. But his fever was gone, and we both just sat in his bed talking. Eventually I said 'I could get used to this’ and Boris just smiled and said ‘So could I’.”

“I'm really happy for you, Henry. Why didn't you tell anyone sooner? How long has it been?”

“That's not important.” Hank answered evasively. “Hey, Evan? There's one more thing I should probably mention. We're having a little legal thing to make sure our bases are covered, legally speaking. I'd like you to be there.”

“Sure, but I don't see what I have to do with legal paperwork, Henry. It's not like I'm a lawyer or anything. I'm a good accountant-A great one, actually-But Boris’ finances are way beyond what I can do, or really what any one person could manage.” His brother answered, slightly confused.

“It's next month. You should wear a nice suit, we're doing dinner after. Maybe some dancing.” Hank smiled a little as he walked out of the room.

“Wait. Wear a nice suit? Dancing? What kind of meeting is this? Oh my God Henry, is it even a meeting? Are you guys getting married? When were you going to tell me? Henry!”

\---

Boris first noticed a cough on June eleventh, he would later inform me.

On the thirteenth I happened to notice he was sweating as he got into his car. I tried to get him to rest, but he assured me he was too busy.

At four in the morning on the fourteenth, I awoke to one of Boris’ security guards shaking me awake. Something was wrong.

I ran to the main house, climbed stairs two at a time. Boris was alone in his room as he retched into a small bin. He was shivering, but I could feel his incredibly high fever through his silk pajama shirt. 

“Boris? I'm here. It's going to be okay. Can you tell me what's going on?” I grabbed the temporal scanner as I tried to calm him down.

“Mir ist heiß. Ich denke, ich… Kalt. Tut weh.” He muttered, before dry heaving into the bin again. 

His eyes were becoming unfocused, he was having a hard time talking and he didn't seem to be aware he wasn't speaking English. The reading on the thermometer was one hundred and four, which was alarming. I administered fever reducers and antibiotics, took blood for lab work, got cool water and towels.

Twelve hours and a battery of tests later, I had no idea what was wrong with Boris and he was only getting worse. The antibiotics weren't working, the fever reducers weren't working, and his temperature was holding steady at just shy of one hundred and five degrees. I tested for Meningitis, for a host of rare viruses and parasites and diseases, but nothing came back positive. 

I looked down at him. He was mumbling in his sleep, twisted in the light sheet that was supposed to be covering him. I replaced the cool towel on his forehead with a fresh one, rubbed my thumb along his creased brow. He was so hot it almost hurt to touch him.

“You're going to be okay.” I promised him. “I'll be here. We're going to get you better.”

In med school, we were once assigned a project where we would was read a doctor's notes from a few hundred years ago and perform a differential, hypothesizing what the patient may have been sick with. Two groups had been stuck with patients that had high fevers, vomiting, hallucinations, hysteria, confusion. One patient had died, the other had lived. Eventually the professor said his belief was that it was a dinosaur disease, an old sickness that died out. I looked around Boris’ gilded room, finished with priceless antiques. Did he have a climate controlled room for artifacts? Could he have the dinosaur disease? How long would it last?

Another twelve hours later the hallucinations began. His eyes would open, wild and unfocused, and he would start bellowing. At first I tried bringing in Udo to translate, but Boris nearly came out of the bed at the first sight of him, fists up. For the entire next day no one could enter or exit the bed chambers without sending Boris into fits of rage. I banned everyone from the room, we couldn't risk his fever going any higher. 

During those long hours I realized he was calmer the closer I stood, the more I talked to him. The next time I was due to replace the cool cloths on him, I climbed into his bed to change them. Finally he was quiet, almost peaceful. I told him about my childhood, about medical school, about anything I could think of as he slowly drifted to sleep. I kept talking even after his eyes were closed, hoping it would keep him resting. I told him about the crushing disappointment I felt when Mr Gardener died, when Nikki left. I told him about our first meeting, our adventures, all the good times we'd had together. Sometimes his eyes would open for a while and he would appear to listen, occasionally even replying in broken German. He caught my hand in his and refused to let go, as if it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

48 hours after I was initially called into the room, 24 hours after the shouting began, Boris stopped talking. He stopped opening his eyes. He was completely silent with the exception of his rattling, ragged breathing. He was sheet white, he almost looked like a corpse. And worst of all, his fever was slowly beginning to rise. I unbuttoned his shirt, covered his chest in cool cloths. I sent a warning to get the helicopter ready, just in case he needed to be transported to Stonybrook. Even though he couldn't hear me, I continued my monologue. I kept my hand in his hoping that somehow it would help. Every fifteen minutes I checked his fever. 

104.9

105.2

105.4

At 105.5 we would pack him in ice and fly him to the city. They'd put him in a medically induced coma. I replaced the cloths again, brushed his hair back off his forehead. He was terrifyingly, unnaturally hot. 

“Please, Boris.” I asked. “Stay with me. Fight this. I need you.”

Somehow, as if he'd heard me, it never went any higher. Another six hours passed in a blur of rattling wheezes and cool cloths. Then he started to shiver. At first I was worried he was heading into a seizure, but he started to sweat instead. His breathing started to even out. I checked his temperature, 104.8. I texted the helicopter pilot team that they weren't needed yet.

I thanked the God I wasn't sure I believed in. I thanked my luck, I thanked Boris for holding on. I squeezed his hand in mine, and let go of my adrenaline rush. The pillows beside Boris looked so soft and inviting. I leaned on them, swearing it would just be for a minute or two.

The clock in the room chimed five. I startled awake, trying to decipher if I'd been asleep for one hour or thirteen. It was still dim, the sun hadn't yet risen over the ocean. I'd been asleep for thirteen hours after being awake for fifty six. 

“You're awake.” A hoarse voice muttered from beside me.

Finally I managed to pry my eyelids apart. Boris looked like a shadow of his usual self. His silk pajama set was drenched with sweat, he had an almost full beard and his hair was wild, sticking up in every direction. But his eyes were clear and he was speaking English- I couldn't imagine a better sight. I put the hand not entwined with his against his mercifully cool forehead.

“I could say the same thing to you.” I answered, smiling at him. “How do you feel?”

Boris shook his head slightly. “Not so good, Hank.”

“You almost died. You didn't respond to medication.” I murmured back. “Did you happen to spend any time in a climate controlled area with any antiques from the fourteen hundreds to the late seventeen hundreds recently?”

A small chuckle escaped him, followed by a hacking, violent cough. “You always seem to know. Yes, about a week ago. What was it this time?”

I put my ear to his bare chest and listened for anything worrying. “You picked up an extinct disease. I'm going to keep listening just to make sure this thing doesn't have a surprise part two. Medical records were spotty back then.”

“How long was I sick for?” He asked. “And why does my throat hurt so badly?”

His voice was a warm rumble in my ear. It was both relaxing and reassuring. “It's been just over three days since you were aware of your surroundings. You spent day two yelling. Hysteria and hallucinations are symptoms. You might want to send flowers to Udo. You tried to fight him.”

“That would explain the nightmares.” Boris said softly.

“What do you remember?” I asked almost absently. His lungs sounded fine but it was so nice just laying my head on him, hearing his heartbeat, feeling his warmth. It wasn't my doctor's instinct but something else, something deeper, that just felt right.

His eyes scanned the cornice, swept over his tasteful furnishings. “There were demons. Hiding. Everywhere. I kept trying to warn you, but you wouldn't listen.”

“You know, it's almost funny. I was trying to keep you quiet to save you from your fever, and you were shouting to save me from demons.” I mentioned appreciatively. 

I couldn't see his face from where my head rested on his chest, but I could hear the raised eyebrow in his tone. “Your sense of humor is becoming as dark as mine, Hank.”

I laughed for a moment. “I'll take you to see Pirates of Penzance or something. We can fix this.”

“Gilbert and Sullivan? I thought you wanted to laugh. No, we should really go see Il Barbiere di Siviglia.” Boris informed me.

“I don't speak Italian.” I reminded him. “And where would we even see that?”

He hummed for a moment before answering. “I believe it's starting a limited run at the Metropolitan next month. I have box seats, of course. And they subtitle the production in English just above the orchestra, though you don't really need them to understand Figaro.”

“It's a date.” I answered. If my chest felt a little tight, it was probably just left over adrenaline from the last few days. And if I were being totally honest, his hand in mine wasn't helping.

“A date.” Boris was quiet for a while, long enough that I was beginning to wonder if he'd fallen asleep despite a slight increase in his heart rate. “You've seen my bank, you're joining me in my box to see my favorite opera. I believe we're more intimately aquatinted than anyone I've dated.”

“I think that's an easier accomplishment than you're implying. You're pretty closed off, Boris.” Of course, I didn't like thinking about who he dated. 

“Perhaps.” He sounded hurt. I pivoted topics. I didn't want this conversation to end. I didn't want to move from this spot by his side.

“Your favorite opera is a comedy? You're full of surprises. It's one of my favorite things about you.” I turned up my head to smile at him. 

He really was strikingly attractive. Strong patrician features, sharp blue eyes. Even exhausted and weak he looked indomitable. It wasn't the first time I'd noticed, but usually it was more of a quick observation. Now it was nagging at me. 

“Tragedies pale in comparison to my… Character robust family, wouldn't you say?” He turned his head to cough again. It was a good reason to stay close to him. I was just being thorough, that's all. His lungs needed to be monitored. It was a reasonable explanation.

“That's the only reason?” I asked once the coughing subsided. “Most people have a sentimental attachment to their favorite movie.”

“No one else asks me personal questions. Everyone else respects my privacy.” He looked at me almost pointedly. “Don't apologise. I appreciate your candor, truth be told.”

“I wasn't going to apologise. Now what's the story?” He shook his head with that little smile he seemed to save just for me. The one that always left me just a little short of breath. 

“I was newly sixteen and Father had died late the previous fall. One night my mother swept into the room wearing a ball gown and informed me we'd be attending the opera. She said she needed a handsome gentleman to accompany her, and I was just the man to do it.” Boris paused for a moment.

“And that was the opera you saw?” I rubbed my thumb over his. His hand tightened slightly on mine.

“There's more. She gave me one of Father's tuxes to wear, even though I had my own. I don't know if she had it tailored beforehand, I assume she must have because it fit. It even still smelled a little like him. Then we saw Il Barbiere di Siviglia. It was the first time I laughed since he died, and we couldn't stop laughing. We laughed until we cried and on the way home she said ‘Your father may be gone, but you're not alone, my Borya’, then told me about my secret half brother.”

“Wow.” I breathed.

“I've never mentioned that night to anyone. Not even Dima.” He said matter of factly.

“I like this, Boris. You being so… Open. And honest.” And close. His skin was warm against my cheek.

“I have neither the energy nor the inclination to be secretive right now.” He paused for a moment. “I never seem to around you.”

And then it happened. His eyes briefly flicked to my lips. It was so fast I nearly missed it. His heartbeat was thudding in my ear. My mouth was dry. It was an opportunity, maybe the only one I would ever get. 

“I could get used to this.” I said cautiously. 

Slowly Boris turned my hand and pressed my palm to his lips. “So could I.”

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a 500 word fic. Then a two thousand word fic. Now it's 4400 words and I'm not sure how we got here.


End file.
